Precarious

by Bella Jewel

  “What you’re telling me is that this other club shot the rest of his family, making it look like you did it.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you. They even cut the cameras so no one would see it. It was fuckin’ crazy; people were everywhere. It wouldn’t have been hard for them to slip shots in. I know Howard has some fuckin’ good shooters. These people deal with bad shit. They have contacts with the cartel. They aren’t the kind of people to fuck around.”

  “They said there was another man with you?”

  He nods. “Whiskey, one of the boys, was checkin’ out the café next door. He came in when he heard the shot. A few people saw him, hence why testaments were comin’ through that another man was there. I’d already shot Johan when he came in. I made him leave before the cops arrived, but he took my gun with him – not exactly sure why. He got questioned, but said fuckin’ nothin’. He won’t say nothin’ either, until this shit is sorted. Club code.”

  “Why?” I gasp. “He could have confirmed your story!”

  “No,” he mutters. “He needed to inform Maddox, and I didn’t have time to get a call in. It was better that way.”

  I think about the witnesses that came forward, and how some of them were telling a very different story. His version makes sense, because logically, they would have missed the actual shooting part. It would be easy to assume it was Beau, since he was the only one they saw with a gun . . .

  “What do the prison guards have to do with any of this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as I try to piece it all together in my head.

  “They’re on the fuckin’ inside. Howard paid them good fuckin’ money to feed information. The prison transfer, it was all a big fuckin’ set-up. They said they were movin’ me for fighting? I had one fuckin’ real fight; it wasn’t enough to be moved. It was all set-up through the group of them workin’ with him. They were plannin’ an ambush, only they weren’t expecting Maddox: they were expectin’ Howard.”

  I shake my head, trying to clear it. “You’re telling me they were expecting Howard? What was he going to do? Take you?”

  “I have no fuckin’ idea what he was goin’ to do, but if Maddox didn’t get in first, I would have found out.”

  “How did Maddox know?”

  “Maddox is a fuckin’ smart man. He has contacts everywhere. Not only did he manage to get hold of one of Howard’s men’s guns, he also shot those fuckers with it. When they search the club house they won’t find me, and they won’t find you, because it’s goin’ to look like Howard is the one at hand.”

  Oh God. My head spins with all this information.

  “Why did Howard put you in prison, and then try to ambush them to get you out?”

  He chuckles, but it’s a deep, terrifying sound. “Don’t you fuckin’ see? He was tryin’ to set the club up. I have no fuckin’ doubt that man had the same idea we had, and was goin’ to plant evidence to show it was the Jokers’ who took out those prison guards—only we got in first. He probably would have then taken me and killed me, just for shit’s sake.”

  “And in doing that he could have likely brought down hell upon your club.”

  He nods. “We would have had cops all over us. Fuck, more of us would have gone to prison. It would have caused an all-out war that would have ended fuckin’ badly. He wants to put our club on the cops’ radar, because they’re tryin’ to run some seriously bad shit through the town. If the cops aren’t on their tail, they can do it easier.”

  “Isn’t it going to cause a war now?”

  “Absolutely,” he mutters. “But if we go down, that little cunt is comin’ down with us.”

  Oh, boy.

  “And when they find you, won’t you just go right back?”

  “Not if we have the evidence to show that it wasn’t me who pulled that trigger. If we set it up right, Howard will go down hard and so will his club.”

  “You still killed someone.”

  He looks away, not answering.

  I can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders that this conversation is over. We sit in an eerie silence for a long, long time before he finally turns back and pulls the food off the small fire. He places it down and goes to open it, but ends up slipping and burning his fingers. He roars and leaps backwards, cursing loudly.

  I don’t think, I just rush forward and take his finger. I pop it into my mouth. My mom used to do this when I burned my fingers as a child, so it’s just an instant reaction. The moment I realize that I have a big, thick finger in my mouth and a biker’s eyes on my face, filled with shock and lust, my cheeks flush.

  “You wanna be very fuckin’ careful what your next move is,” he growls. “’Cause baby, if you keep suckin’ my finger like that it’s goin’ to be a long night for me and you.”

  Oh, boy.

  I let his finger fall from my lips. The sexual tension is thick between us. “I . . .” I swallow. “I, ah . . . it helps take the burn out, I didn’t think, and . . .”

  His eyes are on me, and God, do I feel them burning into my deepest, darkest parts. “Been a good fuckin’ month since I’ve felt a sweet pussy around my dick; best be careful about how you are around me. I’ve had a glimpse of what you’ve got goin’ on underneath those clothes, and baby, believe me when I say I want a fuckin’ taste.”

  Oh . . . my.

  The air becomes thick around us, and I hear nothing but the faint sound of crickets chirping about in the trees. I swallow, and it seems like it takes forever to get the lump out of my throat. Krypt’s eyes are on mine, intense and wanting, and fucked if I don’t want to lean forward and capture his mouth with mine.

  He’s the one to move his eyes away first. He turns back to the food, pulling the can open quickly. I watch him, my eyes never moving from his large back as he pours the contents into bowls. He spins around and hands me one. I take it wearily, not meeting his gaze. We sit side by side, eating in silence.

  “Are you hurtin’?”

  I turn to stare at him, confused by his question. “Hurting?”

  “Your arm? Your body? Is it hurtin’?”

  I shift, feeling a dull ache in my ribs. I don’t actually think I broke them, but I came close. “I am okay, thanks.”

  We fall silent again. I have so many questions eating at me.

  “Hey, Beau?”

  He stops eating, and flashes his gaze in my direction. “Yeah?”

  “You’re saying Tristan is a part of all this?”

  He nods. “Tristan is most certainly part of all this.”

  “He’s . . . I just . . .” I stop, gathering my thoughts. “He was my friend. If you’d asked me weeks ago, I would have said I trusted him one hundred percent. Then I saw stuff going down, and I doubted him . . .”

  “Not your fault, babe,” he murmurs. “It’s clear you’re a good chick, and a loyal one.”

  Was that a compliment?

  “I know that, but I trusted him, and it hurts to know that he could use a prisoner for his own gain.”

  “He’s bein’ paid top dollar.”

  “He could lose his career,” I whisper, meeting Beau’s gaze.

  He reaches over, running his thumb along my jaw. “Not everyone gives a fuck about their career, babe. People like you, who care about their jobs, and show the passion you do, are hard to find.”

  Tears burn in my eyes and I turn away, staring down at my half-empty bowl of the bad tasting tinned beans.

  “He could have had you killed,” I breathe. “That’s never okay. It doesn’t matter what a prisoner has done. It isn’t his place, and it isn’t his job . . . It would make him no better than half the people in that place.”

  “You’re right about that, it’s why he was hopin’ never to get caught. He knows what he’d lose and he knows he’d quickly become one of them . . .”

  “He deserves to be one of them,” I growl.

  “Hey,” he says, reaching over and cupping my jaw in his hand. “Look at me, Ash.”

  My name on his lips has my
entire body breaking out in shivers.

  “You, girl, are a good fuckin’ person. I saw it in the time I was there. I saw how those prisoners respected you. Don’t you ever let that fucker bring you down. When you get outta here—and babe, you will get outta here—then you will go back and have your head held fuckin’ high, because you’re ten times the person any of those assholes are.”

  His words warm me in more ways than one. I like the fact that he thinks I’ll get my job back, and I love that he’s willing to make sure I’ll get out of here.

  “What do you think will happen to me when I go back?”

  He brings my face closer, sending trembles up my spine. Warm puffs of his breath heat my lips as he speaks. “I’ll make sure nothin’ bad happens to you when you go back. You have my fuckin’ word on that.”

  “Why?” I breathe.

  “Because you’re the only fuckin’ real person I’ve met in the last ten years of my life. Because you gave me respect and put me in my place when I needed it. And because you kicked my president in the balls.”

  I laugh softly. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

  He grins, showing me a perfect, masculine jaw that transforms when his mouth moves. “It was a fuckin’ great moment, babe. You showed him you weren’t some pansy fuckin’ bitch that he could push around. It showed him you were serious.”

  “He could have killed me,” I point out.

  “I don’t fuckin’ doubt that, but he won’t now, so you’re good.”

  I’m not sure if that comforts me, but I’ll let it slide for now. Krypt lets my jaw go and turns back. He pulls out a blanket and lays it out. “It’s goin’ to get cold tonight. You got any issues layin’ beside me?”

  “That depends.” I smile, unable to stop myself.

  He raises a brow. “On what?”

  “Well, are you going to try and have your way with me?”

  He smirks. “That depends.”

  I laugh. “On what?”

  “If you want me to have my way with you.”

  I flush and bite my lip, looking away.

  “You want to be fucked, Wildcard? You keen to have my cock inside you?”

  God, why is he so dirty? I’m supposed to hate him. He stole me, killed some guards, and has spilled some pretty bad information in the last few hours, and yet I don’t hate him. It probably comes from the time we spent in the prison together. We’d developed some sort of bond, but all the same, it’s a bad situation. I’m quiet for so long. He finally says, “You scared of me?”

  I turn to him. “I kicked your president in the balls. What do you think?”

  “Seriously, babe. Are you scared of me?”

  I shake my head, keeping my eyes locked on his. “No. For whatever reason, I don’t think you’re goin’ to hurt me.”

  “You’re right about that,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I will.”

  I swallow.

  He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “You know what I think you’re really scared of?” he pauses for a moment. “I think it bothers you that you might actually want it.”

  I smirk. “Don’t tell me you think I’m one of those women who will blush and turn away because you’re putting me on the spot.”

  Oh, he has me pegged all wrong. This situation scares me, he scares me just a little, his president scares me a whole lot, but admitting to my needs has never scared me. I’ve always been one to say what I want.

  He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you goin’ to tell me that you can’t stand me, and there’s no way in hell I’m gettin’ my cock near you?”

  I snort. “You read too many books. No, I’m not going to tell you that. Firstly, I don’t hate you, Beau. I don’t know what your life is about, but there’s a big story behind your stormy eyes, and I’m sure you have a reason for being the way you are.”

  His eyes darken, but he says nothing.

  “And secondly, I haven’t been fucked for over twelve months. I might be pissed at you for hurting me and dragging me into the wilderness, but I won’t deny that the idea of fucking you turns me on.”

  He growls, like a feral, hungry beast.

  It turns me on, big time.

  “Shit. I’ve never met a girl like you, know that?”

  I shrug. “I endeavor to be different. I’ve always been the girl that stands her ground. I was never going to be anyone’s whore, but I was never going to be the girl that played coy, either. If I want to fuck, biker,” I lean in close, “I’ll fuck.”

  His eyes flash.

  “And do you want to fuck, babe?”

  I tilt my head to the side. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  He makes a rumbling sound in his chest. “Let me know when you do, eh?”

  I grin. “Yeah.”

  “Now get in here and go to sleep. It’s been nearly twenty-four hours and you’ve only had two hours in that time.”

  He points to the made-up bed. He leans down and shoves the pack under the blanket, making a pillow. Then he turns to me and jerks his chin towards it. I stare at the space, and then narrow my eyes. “What about you?”

  He shrugs. “Slept on worse.”

  I pull my coat tighter around me. I am tired. I position myself on the blanket and find a comfortable position. Krypt drops down beside me, pulling the blanket over us, then his big arms going up behind his head.

  “Why a guard?” he asks suddenly.

  I think about his question. “Honestly? I don’t know. I wanted to do something different. I never wanted to be the office girl, or the checkout chick; I wanted to do something challenging that gave me access to all walks of life.”

  “Must be a tough job sometimes?”

  “It is.” I sigh. “Sometimes I wonder why I do it, but then I try to consider something else and fail.”

  “You’re good at it; take it from me.”

  I smile. “Thanks.”

  “I’m still takin’ you on when you’re not hurtin’. I want to see you fight.”

  I laugh. “I’ll bring you to your knees, biker, don’t doubt it.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, babe. We’ll see. Get some sleep.”

  He doesn’t have to ask me twice.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I’m cold.

  No, that doesn’t cut it—I’m so fucking freezing my teeth are rattling, and my entire body is shaking from head to toe. I can’t feel my nose, and I certainly can’t feel the rest of my body. I have rolled at least five times, trying to curl myself up to get warm, but there is no hope. My body is too sore to bend that much.

  “Stop fuckin’ wigglin’,” Krypt barks.

  “I’m freezing. Seriously, my nipples are going to drop off,” I cry.

  “Come here,” he orders.

  “What? No.”

  “You want your nipples to fuckin’ drop off?”

  “No!”

  “Then get over here.”

  He reaches out and his warm hand curls around my cold one. He pulls back with a curse. “Fuck me.”

  “I told you I was cold. How are you so warm?”

  “Leather,” he mutters.

  He reaches back out and pulls me towards him. The freezing air hits my skin as the blanket moves, and I cry out. Krypt takes me into his arms, tucking my hand under his jacket and forcing my face into his shoulder. He’s so warm. My fingers are resting on his hard, muscled chest, and I can’t help but notice how damned nice that feels.

  “Shit. You’re like a damned ice cube.”

  “It’s not my fault. You were the one who dragged me up here.”

  He mutters a curse, and uses his arm to furiously rub my free shoulder. I find myself getting warmer right away.

  “You know what they say about gettin’ warm . . .”

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warn.

  He chuckles. “Can’t blame a man for tryin’ when he’s got a girl in his arms.”

  “I bet I’m the only girl you’ve had in your arms that you haven’t fucked.”

 
; “You’re right about that,” he snorts. “You talk the most, too.”

  “Be grateful. I could be screaming at you.”

  “Or—”

  “Don’t,” I cut him off.

  I know he’s grinning, and if it were light, he’d know I was, too. I tuck my leg in his, and my body slowly begins to defrost. My eyes get heavy and his breathing evens out—then, before I know it, we’re asleep again.

  This time warm.

  This time tangled in each other.

  ~*~*~*~`

  The morning comes like a bad cold. My entire body hurts, and every muscle aches. I shift out of the hard, warm body I’m pressed against, desperate to pee. I roll and push to my knees, groaning quietly. Jesus, I’m never sleeping on the ground again. I look over to Krypt, who is sleeping quite soundly. He looks gorgeous during slumber, his big chest rising and falling softly. His dark lashes fan out over his chiseled cheekbones.

  If I were a stupid girl, I’d take this chance and run. I’m not stupid, though. I know exactly how it would end: with me dead, or worse, mountain lion poop. Besides, with all this information that I’ve been fed in the last day, I’m not sure being home is the safest option for me right now. Something about Krypt makes me feel safe, like he’s exactly where I should be right now.

  Either that or my thoughts are clouded with lust and I’m fucked.

  I push to my feet and step out of the overhanging rock area. The fog is so thick this morning that I can’t see a foot in front of me. Great. I’m probably going to walk right into the jaws of mega lion. Swallowing, I tilt my head to the side and listen. I can only hear the sounds of birds, water and . . . nothing else. Thank God.

  I walk forward, deciding to go with just walking in a straight line. I put my hands out in front of me, dodging trees. I turn back, hearing Krypt shuffling around. Nope, too close. He cannot, under any circumstances, listen to me pee. I keep walking forward. The trees thin out just slightly. I can hear the sound of trickling water.

  I don’t realize that the water is so close until I’m slipping down a bank, screaming, my sore body flying over rocks and jagged pieces of branch. I land in the cold water with a splash. It’s freezing, as if tiny ice shards are stabbing me all over my body. I wail in agony, coughing and spluttering, splashing around as I try to find the surface. It’s too damned foggy.